"Deep Thoughts", with Tony Garza

Episode 1. September 20, 2005. Lomas de Chapultepec, Mexico City.

Once I was at a reception for the Association of Fulbright-Garcia Robles grantees hosted by Antonio O. Garza, US Ambassador to Mexico. We were at his house listening to jazz and sipping cocktails with some of Mexico City's biggest players from the private and public sectors. We took a picture with him and his wife, Maria Asuncion, the majority owner of Grupo Modelo.



My boy Tony pulled me aside and asked for my ideas on the current state of US-Mexico relations, so I told him. We were laughing.

Dia de la Independencia, September 16th, 2005

The date was September 15, 2005 and we were in Coyoacan, a well known artist/bohemian neighborhood in the south of the city. I had three friends in town from the city of Monterrey, 8 hours to the north of Mexico City. Juan, Raul and Iliana joined Marcela and I and we headed out to celebrate what is called "el Grito de Dolores," or the "Shout from Dolores." Dolores is a small town in the central state of Guanajuato where Don Miguel Hidalgo, a criollo and the town's parish priest, in 1810 rang the church bell and ignited Mexico's fight for independence from Spanish rule with a famous speech ending in, "Viva Mexico!"

Nowadays, the annual Independence Day celebration involves the gathering of Mexicans in central plazas within their respective cities or neighborhoods to participate in a reenactment of Hidalgo's speech, which always involves "Viva...!" and the names of important historical figures from the Independence and Revolutionary movements. For the young crowd, intensely motivated by the pride of their ancestors, it also involves some beer and of course a round or two of tequila,



the national flag,


silk screens small enough to plaster your the national colors on your face,


and fireworks,


all finished up with some late night snacking.

Reentering the Blogosphere

Yes, I am making the big reentry, finally. It has taken quite some time and after swallowing my shame I am finally ready to come back. I attribute it all to that voice inside my head urging me to post once again, or in reality, my friend Dylan Gipson sending me emails wondering why the hell I haven't updated my blog since October...

Until I can get fully back up and running I’ll hope to keep you entertained with the following photos that are part of a collection I am putting together entitled, “Scenes From the Street,” which is intended to be a brief look at the people and vendors adding the color and flavor to Mexican street culture.

Pursuing the Fine Art of Youthful Exuberance since 1980

SPABfest, September 9th-11th, 2005
Doswell, VA



I can’t think of a better time to see this motto in action than at SPABfest. Yes, it is pursued. It is even attained. I saw Dave (Big) around the campfire at 3 in the morning. That’s pretty damn youthful. My Dad even camped out on Friday night. That is some serious exuberance.



Every September somewhere between 300-400 people born in decades ranging from the 40’s to the 90’s, and hell, beyond, bring their tents, campers, and trailers and drive off the paved road to gather at SPABcamp in Doswell, VA for an indisputably memorable weekend. There’s the camping, the party, the Big SPAB Potluck Dinner, old friends, new friends, my friends and my parent’s friends, but more than anything, there’s the music. I’m particularly partial to the SPAB Bluegrass band, what with their killer 2, 3, and sometimes 4 part harmonies; songs about trains, mamas, mountains, and cheatin’; and well my Dad does rock the mandolin. I can’t not mention the lineup of non-SPABnomenclature bands like Carbon Dated and Huckiddy Players that rattled the stage (literally this year). The SPAB Jazz Band and The Big SPAB Band (Big=22 players in total) sure do hold their own as well, and one thing is for sure, they’ve all come a long way since they were rehearsing in my parent’s garage more than 8 years and 2 houses ago. Everyone who’s spent a night at SPABfest knows that the real fun happens after the ticketed bands leave the stage and the jamming begins. SPABers have been known to still be out blowing horns and strumming guitars at into the wee hours of the morning.



Each year SPABfest gets bigger and better, the SPABcommunity grows stronger, and I see more people whose names I used to know but can’t remember because I haven’t seen them since I was still living in Richmond more than 6 years ago. One of this year’s more important additions to SPABfest was the Hurricane Katrina – SPABoutreach. Although the final tallies are not yet in, Dave (Big) has informed us that initial counts put SPAB’s donation to the Red Cross at $1600.

For the non-knowers and generally less fortunate out there that do not know what SPAB means, well I hope this posting will give you a better idea. SPAB stands for the Society for the Preservation of Adolescent Behavior. Yes, you read that correctly. There is an Official SPAB Animal, the Flounderham, which comes equipped with its own theme song of the same name, and the Official SPAB Song, entitled, “We Are the SPAB.” What more is there?



SPABfest is indeed a great time and this year was no exception. I got to see my family and had two great friends come and camp with me. To the folks and the sisters, it was great seeing you and I’m glad you all camped out at least one night. To Corey and Cindi, thanks for coming and representing DC in Doswell! It wouldn’t have been nearly as fun without any of them there.

Until next September rolls around, as Dave (Big) likes to say, “Stick around! We’re having a good time!”

Acapulco

ever wonder what a pacific coast sunset in Acapulco looked like? Here's a pretty good idea.





These aren't nearly as descriptive as Diego Rivera's paintings of Acapulco on display at the Dolores Olmedo Museum, but you can see where he got the inspiration.

Fulbright and SPABinternational, an unlikey combination

The Fulbright-Hays Summer Seminar is not one of my programs, but my friend at the Fulbright Commission, Marcela, is charge of this one. In short, it brings a small number of primary, secondary, and tertiary educators in social studies-like fields to travel throughout Mexico for a month. This year’s group of 16 spent their month traveling through the southern regions of the Republic, starting in Cancun, Quintana Roo and moving northward to their final destination in Mexico City. Along the way they visited Aztec and Maya archaeological sites, museums, schools, tasted top-notch regional cuisine, and stayed in wonderful hotels with luxurious swimming pools - truly the hard life.



The last five days of the program took place here in Mexico City and I was able to tag along for the ride. We drank tequila in Plaza Garibaldi, navigated Xochimilco on traditional trajineras, visited the Basilica of Guadalupe (the spiritual epicenter of Mexico), climbed the temples of the Sun and the Moon in Teotihuacán, and saw breath taking Diego Rivera murals and Frida Kahlo paintings; all a brief insight into the countless treasures and adventures this city has to offer.



So what does this have to do with none other than the Society for the Preservation of Adolescent Behavior? As fate had it, two of the participants in the program happen to be from good ole Richmond, VA, and I have connections to them both.



Above are pictured none other than Joel Dexter, famed world traveler and James River High School History teacher, and Stephanie Stockman, Spanish teacher in Hanover, colleague of my Dad, and fellow SPAB enthusiast. Joel took a group of my peers and I to Costa Rica my senior year at JRHS and taught both of my sisters. Stephanie and I had never met before, but had the pleasure of discovering the SPAB connection while in Mexico City. Hell, she’s even been to Shenanigans!

BigDave, if you are reading this, SPABinternational truly is international now. Felicidades.

As always, click on a picture to see the rest of the set, hosted on Flickr.com.

From Buenos Aires to Mexico City

I had lunch the other weekend with my friend Ornella and her family. She and I both studied at the same university in Buenos Aires and has been one of my unofficial hosts here in Mexico City. Ornella is the short one in the middle.

El Faro

Three and a half hours south west from Guadalajara in the state of Jalisco, through the fog and rain, green mountains and winding roads, past beautiful vistas along a curving coastline, past agave, coconut, and plantain farms, and amidst nameless pueblos and rustic surfer towns lies El Faro, one of Mexico's many hidden treasures. Imagine three hundred yards of white sand, pristine beach, and beautiful coastal views and combine it with thatched roof huts, tents, and hammocks.



Amongst this tropical paradise is where I spent this past weekend eating fresh ceviche and shrimp quesadillas, drinking all the Estrella you can ask for, sleeping, reading, and frying in the sun. The twenty hours roundtrip travel, aching sunburn, and rough Monday at work were more than worth it.

I arrived in Guadalajara at 10:00pm on Friday after seven long hours on a bus and was met by my hosts Nat, Nunu, and Xochitl, all Guadalajaran natives, and sisters. Nat, who is currently at home visiting her family, is married to my friend and ex-DC roommate, Shelton.



They picked me up at the bus station, truck packed and ready to hit the road, and we proceeded to Xochitl's house, who was having a house warming party. The plan was to hit the road at midnight and get to El Faro in time to catch a few zzz's and rise with the sun. Plans changed, as they always do, and we got on the road at 5:00am after two and a half hours of sleep.



We arrived in El Faro three and a half hours later, set up the tents and hung the hammocks, and I proceeded to fall asleep on the sand soaking up the intense Pacific coast sun, which later on would earn me the nickname "don Lechoso" due to my pale skin and red sunburn. ("don" being a term of endearment given mainly to older people, "lechoso" coming from leche, which means milk, and "-oso" a common superlative ending. In other words- Mr. Milky.)



The rest of the weekend was spent lounging in the hammock, reading "The Thousand and One Nights," watching a breath taking sunset, and catching up on needed sleep.



We left this paradise Sunday evening in time to get me back to the bus station for my 11:25pm departure back to reality. After a seven hour bus ride through a night of tossing and turning, and painful sunburn, I arrived back to DF to crash for two hours and get ready for work. Looking back only a day later, the weekend was caught somewhere between a dream and a Jack Kerouac novel, truly a wonderful break from the daily grind, smoggy air, and concrete jungle of my home in Mexico City. These words and pictures hardly do it justice.



All of these pictures, as well as the rest of this set, can be seen and downloaded in their original sizes by clicking on any one of them and going to my site on Flickr.com. Click on the El Faro set.

My humble abode

To see the other pics, click on this photo and you will go to my page on www.Flickr.com.